


after a while

by highboys (orphan_account)



Category: Natsuyuki Rendezvous
Genre: F/M, Loss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-11
Updated: 2012-08-11
Packaged: 2017-11-11 22:20:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/483486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/highboys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a while, she opened the shop again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	after a while

**Author's Note:**

> For angst_bingo.

After a while, she opened the shop again.

The dead leaves, she had to discard; she tore them from their stems, one by one, and tossed them into the bin. She watered the plants and changed the bowls. Once or twice, she thought she heard him laugh at her, like when she forgot to do the chores. You're so hopeless sometimes, he used to say. I don't know how you'll get by without me.

Now, he stayed silent as he watched her work. She swept the floor and passed a rag over the counter, the shelves. She wiped the windows until her arms started to ache. In the kitchen, she wet the rag and wrung out the dirt and water. Sometimes she was careless, lazy; she let the water run as she squeezed the cloth to dry.

I hope you regret this when you see the utility bill, he told her, as she passed him. And then you'll use up the inheritance and the insurance and I'll cry.

She said nothing, as she picked up the phone. For a few minutes, she talked to his sister. She smiled sparingly, as her fingers fretted at the hem of her shirt -- white, now dusted with flecks of brown and black. Things are -- better, not the worst, not like last month, when her tears were hot and damp against the hard plane of his stomach. She at least got out of bed long enough to clean.

For dinner, she made grilled fish. As she set the table, she put down a plate for him, too. She was already going through half of her rice when she remembered, and he watched her cry into her glass of water. He stroked her hair, helpless against the shaking of her shoulders, the slump of her back. I love you, he told her. I love you.

When she went to the bathroom to wash her face, he followed her. I'm okay, she said, to the mirror.

You're amazing, he said.

I'm okay, she repeated.

She went back to clean up. As she washed the dishes and let them dry, she thought of the orders she had to make, the flowers that were waiting to be cut and dried. He hovered over her and pinched her cheeks; he played with her hair.

I like your hair longer, he said. But you're not listening to me, are you?

She was still, silent, even as she put the plates back into the drawer. When she took out the trash, he did not follow her out. She spent some time checking if the doors and windows were locked, and even then he remained seated in the kitchen. She turned off the lights and sighed.

Tomorrow, she would air out the room. She'd open the windows and the doors and hose down the larger empty pots. A blank piece of paper would be waiting for her by the counter, and she would write, help wanted, eventually. There would be customers and neighbors, tomorrow; perhaps her husband would be there, too, but for now she was alone.

She closed the door, behind her. When she went to bed, she curled up on her side, facing the wall. I'm sorry, he must have said. He pressed his fingers to her lips, trembling.

Don't leave me alone, she whispered, and shut her eyes.

 


End file.
